


Shovel Talk

by fredesrojo



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: #TEAMMAC, F/M, post Election Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredesrojo/pseuds/fredesrojo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One wedding, and four threatened funerals--or, How Will Finds Out Basically the Entire Newsroom is #TEAMMAC</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shovel Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Tbf I couldn't tell you the real inspiration behind this fic bc I cant even remember why I was writing it in the first place--I honestly think I rly just wanted Will being shovel talked by various newsbbs.
> 
> Regardless...here, have a thing.

**i. 3:40 AM Nov. 7-- 1 hour 40 min after broadcast**  

Charlie gets to him first. 

Will is accepting handshakes and back-claps from left and right, nodding and smiling along like he’s listening to whatever they’re all saying to him, but in all actuality he just wants to get Mac the hell out of here so she can sleep, because she looks like she’s about to drop. 

They’re almost to the hall leading to the elevators when Charlie and Leona descend on them--Leona drags Mac into an involved conversation about the ring, while Charlie hooks an arm around Will’s shoulders and steers him towards the elevators and inconveniently _away_ from Mac. 

“Charlie, I really just want to get Mac home.” 

One bushy eyebrow arches, dark eyes pinning him with a shrewd look. “Ten minutes won’t make much difference at this point.” 

“How’s the rallying calls going?” It’s a fucking pitiful attempt at deflection, really, but Will’s too fucking tired for a shovel talk right now. 

“Fine.” Charlie is probably the closest thing Mac has to a father figure, at least on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, and Will can see the quiet strength gathering in the older man’s intent gaze. “I know you two had a discussion about Mac leaving ACN.” 

“You...what?” He already regrets that particular conversation deep in every fiber of his being, and the first order of business as soon as he gets Mac alone is to tell her that she is absolutely in no way fired at all. “How did you…” 

The eyebrow arches further, a non-verbal ‘oh, please’ in response to his half-voiced question. “Please don’t take me for an idiot.” 

“I’m taking it back.” Will mutters, jamming his hands deep in his pockets. “Besides, it’s Tuesday, it doesn’t count anyways.” He sighs, tries again. “She goaded me into it.” 

“Hm.” 

He expels another sigh, resisting the urge to rub his forehead. “It wasn’t my best moment tonight, okay?” 

“Putting that ring on her finger puts a few points in your column, I suppose.” Charlie muses, mirroring Will’s posture with his own hands in pockets. “But don’t think we won’t be having a conversation about why what looks like a quarter of a million dollar ring was sitting in a drawer in your desk later.” 

“Charlie…” 

“Do you forgive her?” The question is blunt and silences the rest of his protest before he can even begin to voice it, Charlie’s gaze focused back on his. 

“Of course I...you think I would have proposed if I didn’t…” He stutters, gesturing sharply. “I...she’s not...I can’t live with her taking all the blame for this shit anymore. It’s not even half her fault and she’s taking on all the guilt like it is, and it’s not okay.” He realizes his voice is getting loud about halfway through the impassioned speech, lowering it back to acceptable volume. “I did. I forgive her. I probably forgave her a long time ago--it just took me a while to realize it.” 

Charlie’s eyes soften and the tense set to his mouth relaxes into an easy smile. “Just making sure.” He reaches out and clasps Will’s forearm, tugging him close for a tight hug, big palm clapping his back a few times. “I’m happy for you both.” 

Will hugs him back and basks in the approval he didn’t quite realize he needed until now, hiding a smile against the shoulder of Charlie’s blazer for a moment. “Thanks.” 

Charlie is still smiling when he pulls back to grasp his shoulders in a gentle grip. “I’m proud of you too, Will. You did good.” He turns and walks away without further comment, catching Mac just around the corner in a tight hug that pulls her off of her feet for a moment as she passes by him, eliciting a squeak of laughter. He kisses her forehead gently and murmurs something that Will can’t quite hear before he disappears back to the newsroom, leaving Will standing and staring at his fiancee--and Will will never get over the fact that he’s allowed to call her that now. 

Mac is his _fiancee_. 

She gives him an odd look and tucks herself against his side, nudging him to hit the call button for the elevator. “What did Charlie want?” 

He shrugs. “To say congratulations. He said he didn’t really get to earlier.” Will smiles down at her, leaning in for a kiss. “I love you, you know.” 

He gets to say that now. 

He loves her. 

* * *

 **ii. 10:30 AM Nov. 7-- 8 hours 30 min after broadcast**  

Jim, at least, has the decency to wait until Will’s had his first cup of coffee before he strikes. 

“Do you have a minute?” He holds up a stack of what looks like printed articles in one hand, head ducked just around the door. “Mac wanted to run an analysis on the online media coverage of the elections.” 

Will waves him in, still nursing his coffee (not for _that_ reason, he’s just tired is all) as he scrolls through his news feed absentmindedly on his phone. “And I’m the one dealing with this because…” 

Jim shrugs as he pulls the door closed behind him. “That was mostly a prop, actually.” He doesn’t look apologetic at all. “Mac probably will want to cover something similar to that later, I just wanted to be able to talk to you alone for a few minutes.” He folds his arms across his chest with the air of someone doing something they’re not exactly pleased with. “I respect you, you know.” 

“If this is going where I think it’s going…” 

He talks over Will as if he isn’t even there. “I respect you. But Mac is arguably one of my best friends and also basically my big sister.” Jim’s eyes are hard and there’s dark circles evident under them and seriously, when the fuck did he stop noticing that half the newsroom looks like zombies lately? 

He rocks forward on the balls of his feet, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t really know much about the two of you before I followed Mac here--I probably should have, in retrospect, given some of the things she reacted to and talked about in Afghanistan--but I wasn’t a fan of the way you treated Mac from the start. She…” He pauses, frowning slightly. “She pulls blame onto herself like it’s going out of style, but some of the shit you’ve pulled in the last two years…” 

Jim pauses and re-orients himself, sighing. “She made me promise, two years ago, that I wouldn’t try to stick up for her, because she felt like she deserved everything you threw at her. And I didn’t like it, but I agreed, because she asked me not to intervene.” He narrows his eyes at Will. “I know there’s shit you’ve pulled that she hasn’t told me about, but I was the one who was there for her when she was crying and convinced you’d never even want to look at her again, and I was the one who was there when you started up with Nina Howard, and I was the one who was there when Genoa blew up in our faces and Mac was convinced it was all her fault and you’d never want to work with her again.” 

Will sits forward, bracing his elbows against the edge of his desk. “I stayed after every night she was in depositions with Rebecca.” 

The senior producer’s lips quirk in a wry smile. “Yeah. That was what, two, three days?” He shrugs and then holds up his hands to forestall Will’s protest. “I’m not making this a into dick measuring contest--I don’t love Mac like that, for one-- but I’m just saying: I was there for her, when you had your head too far up your ass to notice. And I will always be there for her, because she’s my friend.” He drops his arms, re-folds them, and then drops them again. “She loves you with everything she has, and if you do anything to fuck with her feelings again, I will make sure she leaves this newsroom and I will leave this newsroom with her and I will make sure every single person working out there follows us out, and you will never find another crew willing to work with you.” Jim’s voice has become quiet and controlled, gray eyes intently focused on Will’s. “And then I will use every contact I have, every favor owed to me, to make sure that you never find a job in journalism again.” 

Will briefly considers reassuring him that he will never hurt Mac like that ever again, but then it’s not Jim that he needs to be saying that to. In the end, he settles for a silent nod, sitting back in his chair calmly. 

Jim stares him down and then nods after a moment, his smile settling into something more relaxed. “Okay.” He picks up his stack of props and heads for the door. “See you at the rundown.” 

* * *

**iii. 1:00 PM Nov. 7--11 hours after broadcast**

Sloan corners him around lunchtime, carrying a brown paper bag and two carry-out cups of pop into his office. She deposits all three items on his desk and drags a chair over from the table in the corner, settling in front of him with an intent expression. 

“So...thanks for not telling me you were going to propose to my best friend, that was a pleasant surprise last night.” She unpacks the bag as she begins to speak, unearthing deli wrapped sandwiches and two bags of kettle cooked potato chips. One of the drinks is nudged closer to his side of the desk. “Diet Coke, have at it. Hope you like pastrami on rye, because I’m not sharing my turkey wrap.” 

Will accepts the sandwich and eyes the closed door to his office and then the stack of legal briefs from Rebecca next to his left elbow. With a quiet sigh, he unwraps the sandwich and selects a bag of chips, licking a stray swipe of spicy mustard off the edge of his ring finger. “I wasn’t planning on proposing last night, it just sort of happened.” 

“I mean, you didn’t even have me come and pick out the ring, which sort of rightfully was my duty as her best female friend, but whatever, I’m a big girl, I can take a little disappointment.” Sloan meticulously arranges her wrap and bag of chips on the waxed butcher paper the sandwich came packaged in, picking up a stray chip and munching on it reflectively. “Although I suppose you did a good job picking out the ring, that thing is like the size of a large-ish house in the suburbs.” 

It’s kind of difficult to tell if she’s fishing for information or if she knows anything at all, so Will nods and takes a large bite of sandwich to keep his mouth occupied. He chews and swallows, sipping a bit of Diet Coke to clear his throat. “Large-ish?” 

“Well I mean I’m guessing here I don’t live in the suburbs so I don’t know what size houses actually are out there.” She frowns as a bit of tomato drops from the wrap, picking it up and eating it before she takes another bite. “But anyways, back to the main issue of you marrying my girl Kenzie.” 

“How exactly does Mac qualify as your girl? I’m pretty sure she’s older than you.” Far be it from him to speculate on a woman’s age, or reveal a woman’s age for that matter, so speaking in generalities will have to do. 

Sloan waves her hand in midair, slurping obnoxiously on the straw of her soda for a moment. “Sorry, super thirsty. Anyways, I mean like homegirl, you know, hoes before bros and all that.” 

He’s not even sure if that last sentence was in English. “Um, no?” 

She waves impatiently again. “Not important. What’s important is that you guys spent the better part of six years quietly tearing each other apart and now suddenly you’re engaged.” She leans back and folds her arms, eyeing him shrewdly. “So what changed, William?” 

And there it is. “I forgave her.” 

Sloan blinks, her eyebrows shooting up. “Aaaand this was a revelation that occurred to you in the middle of national election coverage and prompted a proposal with a ring that you just happened to have waiting in your pocket?” 

Will winces. “I’ve...I’ve had the ring for a while.” 

“Mmhm,” She hums, waving one hand in a ‘continue’ motion. “We’ll get back to that in a bit.” 

“I couldn’t live with Mac taking the blame for Genoa and everything and Charlie was talking about some stupid quote Reese sent him and I realized something and got the ring and went and proposed and yes it was kind of sudden and we need to work through some shit but I forgive her and I love her and that’s all that should matter.” There’s something about conversations with Sloan that always seems to make him spill everything out at once and it’s both irritating and strangely cathartic to be able to unload all of the events from the day before. 

Sloan seems to sit and quietly process through his word vomit for a minute, so Will takes the opportunity to eat some more of his sandwich and steal a few of her salt and vinegar chips. 

Finally, she bats his hand away from the bag and takes a bite of her own sandwich, chewing and swallowing before she speaks. “Okay. Here’s the deal: you’re kind of like my big brother but Mac is my best friend and pretty much the only person in this place that I can consider a true friend. While I don’t know everything that happened between you two, I still know a lot, and these past two years you’ve been systematically throwing shit at her and Mac’s pretty much been taking it all on the chin because somewhere in her mind she feels like she deserves it.” She draws a deep breath. “Now, you can’t do that anymore. You’re either all in, or you need to find a way to get there really fucking fast, because this is it for Mac. If you’re not…” She trails off for a second, thinking. “If you’re not 100% into this and committed and have forgiven her for Brian and whatever else you both heaped on her head, you’re going to break her, and I’m not going to let that happen.” Seemingly satisfied with her wording, Sloan nods decisively. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted to say.” 

He studies the backs of his hands for a minute to keep the smile from showing, forcing his voice to sound studied and casual. “So you didn’t know what you were going to say when you came in here?” 

“Eh, not really. I kind of knew the gist of what I wanted to say but I just needed to find the actual words.” 

“This is you threatening me.” 

“Basically.” 

“With lunch.” 

Sloan shrugs. “It was an easy in to your office, and I was hungry. I figured feeding myself might solve the words problem and then I wouldn’t be hungry anymore either. Win-win.” 

Suddenly, Will reaches across the desk and catches her hands, looking at her seriously. “If I ever do anything to hurt Mac, _ever_ , I want you to back her up and stand up for her at all costs. But I am never, ever going to do anything to intentionally hurt her, ever again, and you can take that as a promise.” 

Sloan looks both proud and a little awed, and she squeezes his hands gently. “If you ever hurt Mac, they’re never gonna find your body, because the whole newsroom will help me hide it.” 

He nods. “Good.” 

She smirks and stands to clear up the trash. “Good. Just so we’re clear on that.” 

“Crystal.” 

Sloan nods and pitches the trash into the bin near his office door, snatching up her drink to sip the remaining dregs of it through her straw. “Well, I think my work here is done. Good talk, Will.” She winks and heads out the door, pausing at the last second to look back. “I love you, big brother. And congratulations.” 

He smiles and watches her go. “Thanks, sis.” 

* * *

 **iv. 7:00 PM Nov. 7--17 hours after broadcast**  

Maggie ambushes him in Hair and Makeup an hour before the show. 

(Okay, ambushes isn’t really the right word. One second he’s looking in the mirror and thinking through the stack of legal briefs Rebecca piled on him this afternoon, and the next Maggie is standing over his shoulder watching his expression in the mirror with a strange look on her face. 

He jumps, a little bit. Just a little bit. Completely normal reaction.) 

“Jesus Christ!” Will turns the chair around because talking to people in mirrors is fucking weird and kind of rude. “When did you...nevermind.” 

Maggie smiles a little, her shoulders huffing in a brief laugh. She holds up a slim folder. “Final polling data from the battleground states, Mac said to drop it off so you could read it over.” 

“Right. Thanks.” 

She’s still watching him with that strange look--not strange, exactly, more...calculating. Like she’s deciding if she should say something. At length, she speaks. “You put Mac through a lot, you know.” 

“Maggie…” 

“No, let me just…” Maggie chews her lip for a second, looking vaguely frustrated. “Okay, look. You and Mac are basically like my journalistic idols and while I realize that this year has been roughly seventeen different kinds of fucked up, I still look to you guys as my...ah, news-parents, if you will. You both--you’re the type of journalists that everyone should look up to and you’re tough and you roll with the punches and I realize that I’m not tough and I get knocked down a lot sometimes but I try as hard as I can to one day be even half as good a journalist as you guys are.” 

“Maggie…” 

She spreads her hands wide and almost bounces up on her toes, growing more impassioned as she continues speaking. “And I don’t want to...I don’t want you guys to…” Her fingers fidget with the ends of her sleeves as she searches for the right words. “Just--if you fuck this up for her you’re going to find out exactly how good of a shot I am because Mackenzie McHale is one of the best people out there anywhere and while you’re my boss and this is probably insubordinate as hell, you can’t let this thing fall apart between you because if you do it’s going to tear Mac to pieces and probably destroy this newsroom and while it’s not a lot right now this newsroom is kind of the only family I have, and I need it,” She finishes, breathing a little quickly, while her arms shift to hugging around her middle. “I need it. It’s all I have.” 

“Maggie.” He softens his voice and shifts forward in the chair enough to grasp her shoulders, trying to draw her attention. “Maggie.” Finally, she glances up at him. Will smiles. “I’m serious about this, I’m serious about wanting to marry Mac, I’m serious about being in love with her, and I won’t let this fall apart. I promise.” When she still looks doubtful, he reiterates his point again accompanied with a reassuring squeeze to her shoulders before he lets go. “Really.” 

Maggie finally nods uncertainly, still fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves. “Well, okay then.” She nods again. “Yeah. Good.” He’s about to reassure her further when she nods a final time and abruptly heads for the door.  

* * *

**v. 10:30 PM Nov. 7--2 hours 30 min after post Election Night broadcast**

“Everyone hates me,” Will faceplants on his bed as soon as they enter the room, face muffled by two pillows and a mouthful of comforter.

Mac pauses, halfway through hunting his dresser drawers for a shirt to wear (steal) for bed, squinting at his form starfished out on the bed. “Why do you say that?”

“They love you more than me.”

“Well, I’m not disputing that,” She snarks, discarding her skirt and blouse in favor of the t-shirt and a pair of Will’s boxers. “But who is 'they', exactly?”

He manages a halfhearted glare, turning his head enough to get his face out of the pillows. “Charlie. And Jim, and Maggie, and Sloan. Not necessarily in that order.” He pauses, squinting. “And there’s probably going to be more of them tomorrow.”

“So that’s why Charlie cornered you when I was talking to Leona,” Mac muses, digging through Will’s limited skin care stash for something to wash her face with. “I wondered.”

“Maggie actually said she would shoot me.” Will must be up and changing, from the way his voice is moving.

“If it makes you feel any better I doubt your sisters are going to be pleased with me for a while yet,” Mac counters around a mouthful of toothpaste, rinsing and then spitting by the time Will appears in the doorway.

“Fi will be pissed I didn’t tell her I was going to propose, and Liz is already mad at me because I said I wasn't coming for Christmas.” He shrugs. “I think we were both already on their shit list.”

“Speaking of shit lists, my parents--God, if Mum finds out through some tabloid, I’m dead.” She grabs his wrist, twisting it to look at his watch. “Is three AM too early to call, you think?”

“Probably.” Will’s expression shifts to something more worried, regarding her in the mirror. “Should I have--I mean I know it was fast, but I never spoke to your parents--”

“It’s less about how you proposed and more that if they find out through a third party or the Internet they’ll have both of our heads.” Mac sighs, walking out to drop down onto the bed. “We can call before lunch tomorrow.”

“If I make it through lunch.” Will follows her back to bed, flopping down dramatically.

Laughing, she rolls over, kissing the pout from his mouth.

“They love me. I think they’ll let you live.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
